Gothick

Chapter Seventeen

Emma sat in the hospital corridor, her back stiff from sitting in the small, wooden seat. She wanted to get up-to pace, to run-but her muscles wouldn't move. So, she just stared at the glossy, wood floor. Everything had happened in a blur, yet it seemed to stretch for ages. In fact, she barely remembered Henry riding off and the arrival of the ambulance.

Nan was nearly comatose by the time they reached St. Peter's. Emma couldn't find herself able to look at the old woman any longer. The woman, usually so vibrant and happy, was now still and ridged; like a corpse. A knot tightened in Emma's stomach and breathing became difficult.

The sounds of hurried footsteps drifted down the corridor. Dominick, his face red, turned the corner and sprinted toward Emma.

"Where is she?!" Dominick said, gasping for breath.

Emma nodded toward the ward door beside her.

"Doctor Balthazar is with her," she said, her voice monotone from shock.

Dominick rushed through the door and closed it behind him, leaving Emma, once again, alone. If she could get up and listen through a gap in the ward door-No. Even doing something so minuscule felt like a violation of Nan's privacy. Emma's lip trembled, but she forced it to stiffen. The ward door opened again, and Dominick stumbled out.

He closed the door, face ashen, leaned against it and slumped to the ground. Dominick stared off, but Emma's gaze remained on him until he spoke.

"Nan is dying."

Emma sat ridged, almost petrified. It was the sentence she feared hearing. Part of Emma had known, but she had never wanted to acknowledge it. In that way, it didn't exist, but it did, and she couldn't bury it away any longer. Now the ground seemed to crumble beneath her feet, and Emma felt as though she were falling.

"I've known for a long time," Dominick said, his voice, also, monotone.

"And you did nothing about it?" Emma said. Dominick glared at her, his eyes sunken.

"Why do you think you exist?" he snapped. Emma could only nod.

"What happens now?"

Dominick remained silent, leaving the question hanging in the air like an odor. Emma was about to ask again when he finally replied.

"Balthazar said she has a month or two at the most," Dominick said. He sprung up and paced. "Damn it! I need more time!" Emma's eyes followed him as his stride grew faster. She wanted to say something-that Nan would be alright; that there wasn't anything to worry about. Though the lie felt too large to pass through her lips.

"She won't die!" Dominick finally exclaimed, still pacing. "Death has no sway over me. It thinks that it can take another from me so swiftly? Oh no! I am Dominick Würde! I've created the first reanimated organism! I've gazed into death's black eyes and laughed in its face! I reached into the very pits of Hades and wrenched a spirit from the Dead Lord's clutches! Dominick Würde is the master of Death!"

Dominick slumped over, his face lined and his eyes sunken. He looked tired-defeated.

"I...I can't lose her..."

He spoke in no more than a whisper. Emma watched as he turned, limbs hanging limp at his side, and trudged off down the corridor.

Only a month or two at most.

No, surely there must be something that could be done. Science was evolving with each passing day. New cures were being invented. After all, wasn't she proof of that? But he said he didn't have enough time...What of necromancy?